Details
by Corky the Quirk
Summary: It's all in the details.


**Author's Note:** This is my new OTP. This is also a really random fic with no actual plot...so don't expect anything to fit together as if there's actually a moral or something to the story... :D

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Newsies nor DPS.

* * *

><p>It's got to be the red suspenders. That must be what draws Charlie's stare back to Spot every few seconds, because it's his favorite color. Everyone knows that. And Spot is using it against him. Spot is subtle like that. The fact that Charlie's a junior and Spot is a mere freshman doesn't faze Spot in slightest. He knows he can persuade anyone and anything to do whatever it is he wants. That is, if you remove Charlie from that list.<p>

Charlie is a hard nut to crack. He's out there in the open seemingly, letting everyone know what the fuck he's doing with who, and what the fuck he wants to do to the current administration, and just generally not giving a lot of fucks. Figuratively of course. Charlie gives lots of literal fucks, and he lets that be known as well.

At the moment, Charlie is sitting in the red chair that he's claimed as his own, sunglasses pushed up into his perfectly styled hair. He's telling some sort of story about some sort of girl that he did some sort of naughty act with during the previous weekend. Spot is off at one of the table's that the study group room offers to the students, although he's not part of any study group. Unless the multiple boys surrounding Charlie, listening to his words as though their life depended on it, counted as a study group. Spot is certainly studying Charlie.

The hours are growing long, and boys are beginning to exhaust their energy, limply settling on various surfaces to keep from completely falling asleep and collapsing into a snoring pile on the ground. Charlie lets his voice sink low, lulling the boys around him. For just a moment Spot feels his eyes grow heavy, but he shakes his head and forces himself to stay awake. He knows that right before lights out, Charlie will sneak down the stairs and into the courtyard for one last smoke. And he has to be aware for that.

Finally Hagar slams through the door and orders the boys back to their rooms; lights out. Except for Charlie, who'll sneak out to light up. And tonight, Spot is sure he'll light up in more than one way.

Spot follows the herd as everyone crowds back to their rooms, prepping for sleep. He changes into his typical pair of pajamas, red plaid button up with matching bottoms. Red. It's all in the details when it comes to Charlie Dalton.

He watches patiently as Charlie slips past his friends and Hagar and the dog and makes his way down the stone corridor. Spot's snuck out many a time before, and he stealthily follows Charlie, who's clad in only an undershirt and some thin, light-blue pajama pants. Waiting a few moments, he lets Charlie drag on his cigarette a few times before slowly emerging from the shadows and into the courtyard.

At Spot's footfall, Charlie turns around, ready to toss his cigarette to the ground and plead innocence. "Oh," Charlie breathes out in relief. "It's just you."

Spot nods in agreement. "Just me."

Charlie nods back, bringing his smoke back to his lips and staring up at the stars. Spot produces a cigarette from his own pocket. "Need a light?" He glances up to see Charlie staring over at him, one eyebrow raised.

Spot bobs his head yes, stepping closer to Charlie and slipping the cigarette between his lips. He makes eye-contact, keeping it the entire time Charlie fishes out his matches and holds up the flame. Flame. Flamer. Spot grins, taking a deep breath to get started.

Together they stand a puff, not looking at each other. But Spot can feel that electric charge between them anyways. He lets his gaze trail off to his right side, where Charlie is standing awfully close. "When'd you start?" Spot asks, breaking the silence of the night.

Charlie raises a confused eyebrow and Spot gestures at the cigarettes. Charlie shrugs. "Probably about your age…maybe a little younger."

Spot nods.

"When'd you start?" Charlie asks back curiously.

"When I was ten."

Charlie coughs on the smoke he's just inhaled. "Ten?"

"Ten."

Charlie recovers, taking another lungful and returning his gaze to the great beyond.

"When'd you start liking boys?" Spot questions, knowing it'll throw Charlie for a loop and make him choke all over again.

And it does. Charlie sputters, dropping his cigarette and forgetting to stomp it out. "What'd you say Conlon?" he spits, a fire in his eyes.

Spot blinks up into Charlie's narrow gaze. "When did you know you were gay?" he asks confidently, taking another pull at his smoke and blowing it in Charlie's face.

Charlie clenches his fists at his sides and breaths heavily. "I'm not gay."

Spot shrugs. "Bi. Whatever."

"What…you…what is your problem?" Charlie flounders.

"My problem is that we're still just talking," Spot lets fly, pouting his lips.

And just like that Spot finds himself angrily shoved against the brick wall of the school, lifted onto his tiptoes as Charlie grasps him by the collar of his pajamas in both hands. Spot knows he's pissed, but Spot also knows that Charlie is sick of just talking now too. Now that the thought, the idea, has been planted in his mind.

Spot lifts his hand and takes one last puff off of his cigarette before flicking it somewhere off to the side. "Are we finally going to do something, then?" he asks casually, blinking lethargically up at Charlie.

Charlie shoves him against the wall again before letting go and running a hand through his hair. "You're…you're a freshman," he weakly uses as an excuse, licking his lip and gulping. He stares down at the cement, kicking at nothing.

Spot raises an eyebrow. "I thought all guys wanted freshman."

Charlie furrows his brows. "That's when they're blonde, boobed, and dressed as a cheerleader," he corrects the younger boy.

With a snort, Spot makes his way over to Charlie. "So you're saying you're not even slightly interested in fucking me?"

Charlie runs his hand through his hair more furiously this time. "God, Spot…I knew you were different, but I didn't think you were this different!"

Spot's gaze is steady. "I'm not different. I'm just like you." He reached out and grabs onto the front of Charlie's shirt, dragging him back to the wall and pulling him close so that he's sandwiched between brick and Dalton. Gyrating his hips slowly, Spot yanks Charlie's face down to his and kisses him violently, holding onto his hair so that Charlie can't escape. And by the response he's getting, Charlie wouldn't escape even if he had the chance.

Charlie instinctively kisses Spot back, pressing his pelvis against the younger boy's and firmly making sure he stays pinned to the wall. His hand strays down to the drawstring on Spot's pajama pants and tugs it loose as Spot wiggles out of his pants just enough. And then he finds his face pressed against the cool, coarse brick. His panting because he still hasn't had time to recover from the kiss when suddenly Charlie is deep within him and Spot shudders, clenching his eyes closed and biting down on his lip so that he doesn't make a noise any louder than a whimper. The administration would definitely not look fondly on this sort of activity.

Charlie is still for a moment, trying to catch his own breath, before beginning to move again, slowly this time. He groans, holding onto Spot's hips as if his life depends on it, rocking back and forth. When Spot lets out a small whine, he leans forward and starts to press kisses along the back of his neck, biting down here and there as he picks up some speed, wrapping one of his arms around Spot's weight to hold him closer, his other arm bracing himself against the wall.

When it's all done, they silently pull up their pants, adjusting their privates, and just stare at one another. Neither makes a sound as they sneak back into their dorm and head to their separate floors. Spot stops in the bathroom and walks over to a sink, bracing himself on the porcelain and staring into the mirror. There's a scrape at the top of one of his cheekbones from the brick. Reaching up, he wipes away the miniscule amount of blood, and he can't help but smirk at the fact that it's red.

It's all in the details.


End file.
